Thirty-year-old woman is special


29-year-old and 30-year-old woman is not the same, the former can still smile flowery, which seems to be only a mirror stroked the old goes face goes. The three-year-old is a special woman, no longer self-willed, no longer young, mature and sophisticated.

Recently a total love to listen to a song, three - year - old woman .

She is a thirty-year-old woman, has not yet married woman.

In the eyes of most people, the woman seems no matter how hard, no matter how good people say she is, but the issue of marriage, it seems that there is a dependency is the most correct.

Thirty-year-old woman, face no longer young, wrinkles in the early morning quietly climbed brow, haggard hanging in the corner after sunset. By the time polished woman, who has also been the gentle woman of the years, the sun in the different changes left in the only oneself. No amount of skin care products, cosmetics can not hide the face began to aging, and then gorgeous clothes can not cover the aliasing figure. In the corner of the sunset afterglow, lonely reflection of a lonely, memories of the warmth of a walk hand in hand. In the streets of heavy rain pouring, ran alone in a hurry, think of, when someone was young hold up an umbrella. Bath, wiping the wet hair, think of being behind the arms into the warmth. A sort of a small house, the study has not read the book is also placed on the table in the morning to leave the unfinished clothes are still messy placed in bed, not washing the cup has a deep tea stains, everything is still left The appearance. But he is still no longer the appearance of the young, the balcony of the flowers have withered, as she gradually grow old face, sitting on the windowsill, you can a person to dawn suv car rental.

I have fantasized after a day alone, no husband, no children, the house only himself. Tired of the time to soak a cup of tea to taste the taste of time, sleepy, in the soft bed smell only their own taste to sleep, the curtain is your favorite color, the room filled with their favorite books, There are tea, a guqin, a bamboo Xiao, a few favorite on the dressing table hairpin. Seems to work after the day you can slowly kill, day after day, until I was 30 years old, until I really old, I still is a person.

30-year-old woman, mature, with a unique gentle, never unjustifiable, the years to wear away all the edges and corners, to you have been decorated dream. Loneliness in the middle of the night was relentlessly sent, a person to see flowers and tea, life seems to have bland. Wearing floral cheongsam, high-heeled shoes sounded in the open corridor, and gradually awakened the memories of sleeping in the youth, into the room does not turn on the lights, the restless memories of the beating slowly into the deep-pocketed rundown of the small Building, small building, she is dressing, still young look, mouth chuckle, pure and simple.

When the roses in the shop in full bloom, she bought a bunch to herself, holding the flowers will eventually withered, she realized the desperate comfort, the roses in the room lonely open, and her lonely withered, struggling . The morning wind blowing through the windowsill, all quiet and orderly, the night has gone, the sun in her face, peaceful calm, the night did not swallow her lonely, she woke up every morning still in full bloom, a full of aroma , No one understands the flowers. Open in the windowsill, the wind, the rain had, cried, wronged, through the spring and autumn and winter, there is no one to tell her not to, do not compromise her most tempting dermes.